Syncopated Heart
by LesMisLoony
Summary: Just when Pop Sensation Aloysia was beginning to think nothing on earth could impress her, an old friend showed up at her dressing room and introduced her to his big sister. For the #aprilfilles prompt "modern AU or crossover".


Aloysia didn't particularly like Kaavya Kavalieri. She was judgy and self-righteous, and to make matters worse she shared more worn-out memes on facebook than a middle-aged soccer mom. Kaavya didn't seem to like Aloysia much either - though to be fair, she didn't seem to like anybody very much.

But Kaavya was a good singer. She had a good opening act. And she was great with her hands.

With each national tour, it seemed like it was getting harder and harder to find good openers who had never tweeted hate about her the way most of Hollywood did. Aloysia had been in this business for years, and she had had to deal with accusations of being too stiff, too cold, too distant from the beginning. She had known since she was a kid that the entertainment media were bastards. So what if she didn't like cameras in her face and paparazzi assholes screaming questions about her personal life every time she went outside? Did that mean she didn't have the right to a career?

During the first stop on her tour, E! News had put up a picture someone had taken of her getting off the bus that morning and absolutely laid into her for always "looking angry". Already nervous about going onstage, hearing that report had been enough to make Aloysia actually, properly angry for the first time in a long time. She had stormed into Kaavya's dressing room half an hour before showtime and gone on an absolute rant about misogyny and double-standards in the media. She hadn't known who else to talk to. And Kaavya had put down her stupid phone for once and genuinely listened until Aloysia ran out of points to make and threw herself onto the futon with her arms crossed, at which point Kaavya had shrugged and said, "If people think you're too uptight onstage, just do what I do and get off right before a performance. It loosens you up."

The advice had been so unexpected that Aloysia had felt her entire face flush. "Get off?" she had repeated.

And Kaavya had set her precious phone down on the vanity and said, "Sure. Want me to do it for you?"

She was very good with her hands.

What Joey didn't know couldn't hurt him. He was the one who said that they couldn't be exclusive while Aloysia was on tour, anyway.

The tour had worn on for four months now, and tonight she was playing the Hollywood Bowl. If Kaavya was nervous to open in front of a crowd this size, there was no sign of it on her face. She was already in her stage makeup, rhinestones following the curve of her dark brows and her hair swept up on top of her head, and three of her fingers were curled deep inside Aloysia, hitting her just right with every thrust. And yet, it wasn't working the way it usually did. Aloysia dropped her head back on the arm of the couch and squeezed her eyes closed, searching her thoughts for something to help her along. That stupid shirtless photoshoot Joey did last week for Calvin Klein was no help: all she could think about was the way he hadn't even deigned to look up from his phone when he said they should see other people until her tour was over. As if she were too stupid to notice he had been "seeing other people" for weeks.

"I have to go on soon," Kaavya said without breaking her rhythm. "Are you almost there?"

Aloysia gritted her teeth, cycling through a few scenes from her favorite romance novels, but none of it was enough to eclipse the boredom in Kaavya's voice. She sighed, leaned up on her elbows, and shook her head.

Kaavya rolled her eyes as she slid her hand free and went over to the sink. "If you weren't so hot I'd tell you to buy a vibrator."

"Well, you don't have to do me any favors," grumbled Aloysia.

Kaavya shrugged one shoulder as she dried her hands. "It's interesting. Usually."

Someone knocked on the dressing room door before Aloysia could think of anything to say to that. She shot a dark look at the back of Kaavya's head and smoothed her skirt over her lap. "Come in!"

The door coasted open a few inches. "Aloysia?"

"I said come in!"

A head poked around the side of the door: she recognized the disheveled, badly-bleached hair before she even saw his face.

"My god," Aloysia said, rising to her feet.

Her visitor broke into a relieved grin as soon as she met his eye. He hadn't changed at all since the last time they'd seen each other - well, his hair and his glittery bronze eye makeup hadn't. He was still as boyish as ever, but for some reason he was wearing a tailored suit. He threw both arms out to the side and dropped into a low bow. "Allie Weber!" he crowed as he sprang back up. "You remember me?"

"Wolfgang Mozart," she answered, biting back a smile. She hadn't seen him since she was a teenager. Wolfgang had been another one of Mom's bright ideas: he had been a huge tween pop singer in the late 90s, and for some reason Mom thought Aloysia's own career would get a boost if the two of them were seen dating. All that got Aloysia was hate from Wolfgang's hysterical fans, and Wolfgang himself ended up with a broken heart. Luckily his father had stepped in and moved him out here to LA for a few years, forcing the two of them apart as far as the public was concerned. Wolfgang's career had faded out for a while after that. If he hadn't sent Aloysia a facebook friend request a last month, she had to admit she would have completely forgotten about him.

"It's good to see you again," Wolfgang said. His ears were starting to turn red. "We- we just got back from a trip to Paris, and it reminded me of- of you. Do you remember the first movie we watched together?"

Aloysia shot a glance at Kaavya, who was pretending to ignore both of them while blatantly eyeing Wolfgang in the mirror.

When she had accepted Wolfgang's friend request, it hadn't occurred to her for a moment that he might not be over her. Their little publicity stunt of a relationship had been at least five years ago! She smoothed her skirt again, suddenly extremely conscious of the fact that she hadn't put on any underwear yet. It was a high-low skirt in a baby-powder shade of pink, but the high part at the front didn't even fall midway down her thighs. Damn her designer.

"Wolfgang, what are you wearing?" Aloysia blurted, nodding toward his conservative suit. "You look like a valet. Have you given up on the rock star thing already?"

"I still write music," he mumbled, giving his lapels a tug.

"So, what's with the suit? Is this what all the frontmen are wearing in Paris?"

"It's- no, it's... Mom died four years ago today. We were just changing out the flowers on her grave."

"Oh. Shit," said Aloysia. "I'm sorry."

"She always said I looked like Dad when I was in this suit. It made her smile."

Aloysia let out a groan and, mindful of the front of her skirt, dropped back onto the couch. "I'm sorry, Wolfgang."

He shrugged.

"But you really should have changed before you showed up. If the paparazzi got a shot of you looking like that... Wolfgang, did you bleach your hair yourself? Can't you afford a stylist?"

"I should go," Kaavya said loudly. Aloysia saw her throw a judgmental look at her in the mirror before she turned to Wolfgang with her face arranged in a smile. "Kaavya Kavalieri, by the way," she said with a curtsy. "And I like the suit."

"Oh! I know your music!" Wolfgang cried, his face alight with enthusiasm again.

Aloysia twisted her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She had forgotten that it was almost impossible to shake loose of Wolfgang's optimism. Anyone else would have known their relationship was a sham after the first public appearance. But Wolfgang... Wolfgang had latched onto the idea of her with a tenacity that the president of her fansite couldn't even match.

"Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart," he said, dropping into a bow that was only half as deep as the first one, "and this is my sister Nannerl."

Aloysia's head shot up then: sure enough, behind Wolfgang, half-hidden in the doorway, stood a woman nearly as small as Kaavya with enormous brown eyes and a cascade of chestnut curls swept over one shoulder. Oh, god. Had Wolfgang's sister heard all that shit about his clothes? What had Aloysia been thinking? She tugged at the front of her own skirt, eyeing her underwear Kaavya had draped over the arm of the couch. There were bits of wardrobe strewn everywhere in this exploded suitcase of a dressing room; hopefully no one would notice one more. As long as she was mindful of the front of her skirt.

Aloysia crossed her legs.

Wolfgang turned back to her once Kaavya was gone; Aloysia quickly fished her phone out of her bra and pretended to fiddle with it. Nannerl Mozart was here! But why? Wolfgang certainly didn't seem the type to drag his big sister along on dates - or rather, attempts at coercing someone into dating him, which is what she had assumed this was meant to be.

What if he were only here to introduce her to Nannerl? Wouldn't that be something! Nannerl had written most of the songs that had made Wolfgang famous back in the day. After the way Wolfgang had clung to her hands the last time they'd seen each other, Aloysia had been afraid to reach out to him and ask if Nannerl would consider writing something for her. She certainly didn't want to encourage him, or to give him any false hope. She didn't want to feel that she owed him something.

But if Nannerl had asked to be introduced to her...! Well, that was a different matter.

"Al?" Wolfgang asked quietly.

She lowered her phone and met his eye. Over her shoulder, she could just see the top of Nannerl's head.

"I kept thinking of you while we were in Paris. I kept thinking... we were good together."

Aloysia's stomach dropped. "Wolfgang-"

"Wait, let me finish!"

"I can't, Wolfgang! Come on! With my career, with my tour, I really don't have time to try to make this work again. I just sold out the Hollywood Bowl, Wolfgang! I can't just-"

"It's sold out?" he repeated. Was that envy in his voice?

"There are nearly twenty-thousand people out there waiting for me to go on! And my agent comes to me every day with a list of actors and singers who think dating me will get them more media attention! I'm so sorry, Wolfgang, truly, but I just can't-"

"Oh!" Wolfgang interrupted. "Oh, you thought-! No, Allie, that's not what I meant!"

From the hallway, Nannerl giggled.

Aloysia's stomach dropped again; any further and she would have to sink through the couch and onto the floor. She cleared her throat.

"No, Allie," Wolfgang said again, "I'm here to ask if you wanted to work with me again. I'm putting a band together, and I want you to sing with me."

"A band?" she repeated. It was hard to be relieved when she was so embarrassed. "But I'm in the middle of a tour."

"After your tour, then! Nannerl's already working on some stuff for our first album. We have auditions for a drummer next week, so there's plenty of time for you to finish with this."

Aloysia glanced over Wolfgang's shoulder at his sister again; this time, Nannerl caught her eye and winked.

Oh god.

If only she could have felt like this fifteen minutes ago when Kaavya was trying to get her off.

"Aloysia? Ten minutes!" called a voice from the hallway, and Aloysia's gaze shot to the clock mounted above the door. Kaavya wasn't finished with her set yet, was she? There had hardly been time for her to get up to the stage! If it was time for her to go on... Aloysia imagined herself casually retrieving the pair of underwear that was draped over the couch and stepping into them in front of Wolfgang and his sister.

They had to get out of here.

Clearing her throat again, she rose carefully to her feet. "I'll think about it, Wolfgang," she said quickly. "Just shoot me a text tomorrow when this concert is over."

"I don't have your number."

"Then facebook me!" She put a hand on his arm and guided him out to the hall where his sister was still waiting. Their eyes met again, and a shiver coursed down Aloysia's spine.

When Nannerl smiled at her, Aloysia felt like she'd been punched in the heart. "Nice to finally meet you," she said.

Aloysia could only nod.

"Wait," Wolfgang protested, spinning out of her grip and stepping back into the dressing room. "I know you're about to perform, so I'll be quick. I- I have been thinking about you a lot lately. I've been thinking that if we worked together now, now that my dad can't interfere, maybe it'll be as good as it was before. Maybe the two of us-"

"Wolfgang, I'm engaged to Joey Lange!" Aloysia blurted.

Nannerl's brows lifted, and Aloysia immediately wished she'd held her tongue.

The light dissolved out of Wolfgang's eyes. "Oh," he mumbled.

"God, Wolfgang, I'm sorry. If you hadn't ambushed me right before I have to go onstage-"

"Don't worry about him," Nannerl said gently. Even the sound of her voice seemed to creep right into an empty space in Aloysia's chest. She seized her brother's arm and pulled him out of the dressing room, saying, "Wolfgang, I told you not to be an idiot. Maybe someday you'll actually listen to me."

They were moving away, leaving Aloysia alone in the dressing room. Of course she was relieved, but at the same time... "It- it was nice to meet you!" she called after Nannerl.

She paused long enough to shoot one of those devastating smiles over her shoulder. "Hey, if this band actually gains any traction, you should come hear them."

"I will," Aloysia answered, leaning against the doorway and trying to ignore the way Wolfgang's head had just snapped up. "What's the band gonna be called?"

"What did you decide to go with, Wolfgang?" Nannerl asked.

He spun around, a triumphant smile already working its way across his face. That ridiculous optimism again. "Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and the Divine Libertines!" he said grandly, spreading his hands and gesturing as though he were reading it off a marquee.

"Something like that, anyway," amended Nannerl. She reached up to pat Wolfgang on the shoulder, then shot another heart-wrenching smile in Aloysia's direction. "We'll let you go," she said. "And- Aloysia?"

"Yeah?" Aloysia answered a little too quickly. Her name had never sounded prettier.

"I think you might be, uh, missing part of your costume," Nannerl said. She raised her eyebrows and tapped a finger against the front of her own jeans.

Aloysia clutched the front of her skirt with both hands, nearly losing her balance and toppling out of the doorway as she did.

Nannerl laughed; the sound of it pierced through Aloysia's heart until she said, "I look forward to seeing you again, Allie Weber," and winked.

When they were gone, Aloysia closed the dressing room door and slid down the side of it until her bare ass was resting on the cold linoleum.

Where were Kaavya's hands when she needed them?


End file.
